A Revelation of Desire
by quitecontrary311
Summary: Lucius, Hermione, and the story of their illicit relationship. A companion piece to A Repulsion of Denial.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note** : Hello everyone! Just to be clear upfront: I am still working on _A Repulsion of Denial_. That isn't going anywhere, hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. But this has been going on in my head at the same time, and so I wanted to share!

Like the description says, it is a companion piece to _A Repulsion of Denial_ , but this one takes place entirely from Hermione's POV as opposed to Narcissa's. You don't have to read that to understand this one, but it does show a different side of things. Hopefully this gives some more insight into Lucius and Hermione's relationship, and in a different way. I've had a lot of fun with both of these stories so far and I hope you all are too.

Now, just another quick thing to take note of- I completely made up Lucius' (and subsequently Hermione's) position at the Ministry. In trying to figure out what exactly he would do there, I eventually decided that he'd do some sort of consulting within the Ministry itself- basically deciding which departments get attention and funds, how they should be running better, etc. I figured he'd want to do something where he gets to have a lot of power over other people.

Also- just to be clear, I've completely made up anything I mention about centaurs' rights. As far as I know there's no centaur-related department in the Ministry (apart from any magical creature-related departments), nor do any known centaurs want to work there. I'm just weirdly fascinated with the centaurs of the Harry Potter universe and I wanted to bring some of that to light. Rights for centaurs! (Maybe I'll start a SPEW-esque campaign).

Anyway, on with the story! And of course I own nothing but my words here.

* * *

I never meant to fall in love with him.

I meant to hate him entirely, to loathe him with every part of me that still cried out in residual anger and pain, to live the remainder of my life satisfied with my contempt for him. Somewhere along that pathway, however, I went very, very wrong.

Life after Hogwarts fell into a surprisingly normal routine. After the near endless chaos of my school years, I found myself grateful for it. I gained a job immediately at the Ministry of Magic and worked as hard as I ever had at Hogwarts, and after a matter of months my effort seemed to pay off when I earned a promotion as assistant to the rarely-seen (and never by me) head of the Internal Ministry Affairs.

I knew little about my new position at first; I now know why my superiors were so reluctant to tell me about it.

 _Lucius Malfoy's assistant_.

Nothing had ever sounded so terrible. It felt so _degrading_ , despite the significant step up from the grunt work I had been doing as a new employee to a role in a far more prestigious department. Upon hearing about it I had immediately colored my view with my existing opinion of the man. It was admittedly valid, to be sure, but yet undeveloped. Eventually I allowed myself the open-mindedness to see for myself whether he had changed, as Kingsley Shacklebolt himself had insisted was the case.

I accepted the position with a mix of determination in my career, insistence upon not letting one allegedly-no-longer Death Eater scare me away, and the smallest hint of intrigue into the man so recently reinstated to a shadow of his former glory.

Things went entirely wrong almost immediately.

It started with the job itself. Rather than fetching lunches and rushing between offices with stacks of parchments, Lucius insisted on actually utilizing my knowledge in his work.

 _("What good is having an abnormally large brain, Miss Granger, if you are going to squander it on learning whether or not some ineffective Ministry dimwit in a forgotten department takes milk or sugar in his tea?")_

It all deteriorated quickly from there, as we found ourselves lost amongst stacks of books for hours in the name of research, or hovered over important documents with unintentionally matched expressions of concentration as we discussed each part. I quickly grew to appreciate his shrewd mind; with our obvious differences put aside, arguments between us became a thrill more than a nightmare.

I oddly began to look forward to said arguments. They took on the feel of a duel that utilized wit rather than magic, and I found it exhilarating. I suddenly understood why Ron and Harry always seemed so excited about them. Something about the exchange of quick-fire retorts in passionate argument on whatever we had just read sent a thrill throughout my blood.

Within moments (or so it seems to me now) that thrill centralized within me, the electricity concentrating in the very core of my being so that I could know it for its true name: _desire_.

I realize now with the clarity that hindsight affords just how inevitable it all was.

Each argument, even from the very beginning, ended in the same fashion: out of responses, we would simply face each other in sudden silence. I would always take note of the flash in his steely eyes, the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks, the way the exertion of conversation would leave him nearly as breathless as I. With each involuntary glance at his lips or subconscious admiration of his broad chest, the movement of it quickened with his increased breaths, the desire within me threatened to erupt.

The entirety of the outside world melted away, in those heated moments. The fact that we had always been such rightful enemies ceased to matter. My relationship with Ron seemed nonexistent; not to mention Lucius's wife. For just a little while, when we stared unblinking into the darkened depths of one another's eyes, we were the only thing in the universe who could possibly matter.

The intensity boiled to its conclusion on an otherwise uneventful day. As rain beat steadily against the window, my employer and I found ourselves in yet another heated debate on Centaur legalities.

"It is a simple matter, Miss Granger. There is absolutely no reason for the Ministry to accommodate a Centaur legal division."

"There is every reason! Did you not read Article Three? The entire thing talks about Centaurs losing their land and not being able to stop it! They _need_ representation here!"

"I have no idea what you are actually expecting, Miss Granger," he drawled, "But it is useless to create something like that when in all likelihood they would never even show up."

"Things are _changing_. There are Centaurs that _want_ to be part of the Ministry, that disagree with those antiquated laws keeping them in a lesser status to humans. Can you honestly not understand anything outside of yourself, _Mister_ Malfoy?"

His eyes flashed at my mocking demeanor. For a moment I thought I'd gone too far and actually angered him, but a breath's distance later he was in front of me, mere centimeters away, so close I could smell his aroma hovering before me. He smelled of rich leather, old parchment, and something deep and dangerous that I couldn't quite place. The sudden overwhelmingness of it clouded my mind and I feared I might faint.

"I would watch my tone if I were you, Miss Granger," he growled. His breath drifted across my face, causing me to shiver. "You're likely to get yourself into trouble."

I forced myself to keep steady despite the unnerving tension that coiled deep in my belly at the rich timbre of his voice. My eyes flicked up to meet his; the normally icy grey had been lit by a fire that turned them to liquid silver. His gaze threatened to burn my soul. "I think you know all too well that I can handle it."

A smirk ghosted across his hardened expression. I bit my bottom lip and watched his focus slip downward at the motion. The molten silver darkened and I recognized it at once. I knew it as the desire reflected so obviously upon my own face, and my insides jumped in thrilled surprise.

He smirked, all of him typical Malfoy arrogance. I suddenly flashed back to a moment nearly ten years earlier at Flourish and Blotts, staring so heatedly at the man before me as he looked me over with that familiar sneer, both of us only able to eye one another with disdain. Oh, how things change.

We were at each other before either of us even blinked.

His lips met mine with bruising force and I could only respond in kind, opening immediately to his insistent mouth and delighting in the thrill of his tongue moving against my own. He tasted of fire, burning with thrilling intensity, a deep smokiness threatening to overwhelm me. Between his heady flavor and his kiss robbing me of breath I thought I might faint. Oddly enough, I didn't mind.

Just when I was _certain_ I would faint he tore his lips from mine with a reluctant groan. I echoed the sentiment even if my burning lungs welcomed the sudden rush of air. It seemed suddenly impossible to live without him kissing me; how on earth had I survived before?

Though frustrated at first that he did not return his lips to mine, I quickly forgave him when he dragged them down my neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that hit like molten steel where his teeth scraped against my skin.

Too soon he reached the first barrier of my top and grunted in dissatisfaction at it. In mindless agreement I pulled away only enough to rid myself of the offending shirt. He tugged me back to him immediately.

I understood then that there would be no further shedding of unnecessary clothing; there couldn't be. He needed me as I needed him, with a painful urgency that couldn't afford time.

He didn't even remove my bra, only tugged at it until my breasts heaved over the cups. His mouth descended to one while his hand covered the other, both teasing with such intensity I thought I might burst. One of my own hands curled around the back of his head, holding him to my chest, while the other reached down blindly to fumble at his trousers.

Thankfully it didn't take long to work them loose, just enough to pry him from within the trousers' opening. He groaned at that, moving from my breasts to bunch my skirt up around my hips. I helped him in pushing my underwear down. They slipped down and hung off of one ankle when I sat back on his desk. I hardly noticed, and certainly didn't care.

When he positioned himself between my thighs he met my gaze, and I nearly gasped. Amidst the dark desire and the ever-present arrogance there was a spark of something else- hesitation. He looked into my eyes and, for just a flash of a moment, sought my consent. That brushed away any lingering doubt in my mind with sudden overwhelming force. I answered with a slight nod, one of my legs snaking around his hip. He took hold of himself, and in one fluid motion he was inside me.

"Oh... _fuck…"_

I couldn't help the expletive that escaped my lips, but he echoed my sentiments with his own hissed cursing as he set a rough pace inside me. I reveled in it, in the way that he filled me, surrounded me, seemed to occupy every part of my being. Never before had I felt such utterly perfect completion.

I wrapped both legs around his waist to pull him deeper, needing him more and more. He thrust with bruising force, his fingers pressing into my skin as he gripped my waist almost painfully. I welcomed it, giving the same in return with my nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned and a particularly forceful thrust hit the spot inside me that made me scream.

"Yes! Fuck...again...I'm so close…"

He growled at that, slipping a hand down to the swollen nub of flesh between my legs. It only took a few skillful movements before I fell apart with an unrestrained cry.

"Oh...Lucius!"

He groaned as he reached his own peak mere moments later, his face buried in the curve of my neck. "Yes...Hermione…"

The sound of my name from his lips caused a shudder to radiate throughout my body, highlighting the delightful little aftershocks. I struggled to catch my breath and he did the same, both of us panting and clutching one another, the sounds of our mingled breaths the only noise in an otherwise oppressively silent room. He lifted his head just enough to press his forehead against my own while we slowly floated down from our mutual high.

Reality encroached on the moment all too soon. Voices filtered in from the corridor; other employees shuffling about their days, oblivious to the tightly closed door of Lucius Malfoy's office. After all, it wasn't uncommon for us to barricade ourselves away when focused on work, and they allowed us our space. At first I had resented that we were so shut away, then grew to be grateful for the solitude with my sole companion, but at that precise moment the mundanity of it all caused me to startle in sudden horror.

I pushed myself away from Lucius, trying not to note the sudden feeling of disappointment and loss when he slipped out of me. I stepped back. My body immediately missed the warmth of him, the strength of his arms as he held me surprisingly gently.

"Is something the matter, Miss Granger?" he drawled, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between us.

I turned away from where he was rearranging his clothing in order to fix my own. "I- this shouldn't have happened. This was a huge mistake."

"Was it? I found it rather enjoyable. I don't consider something that pleasant to be a mistake."

When I looked back over, he was smirking.

"But you're _married_!" I exclaimed, as if he didn't already know. "You have a _wife!_ And I have a-"

I stopped short and he arched a brow. "You have a what?"

I didn't quite know how to answer. The word _boyfriend_ suddenly sounded so ridiculous, so juvenile. I eventually sighed, "I have Ron."

His eyes grew suddenly cold. "Ah yes, Mr. Weasley. It always did seem a curious choice, the two of you. He is not the most refined individual. I would think a woman such as yourself would need something a bit more... _stimulating_."

For a moment I hated him again, possibly worse than I had before. "You are in no position to comment on Ron, or my relationship, Mr. Malfoy. Ron is a good man. I love him."

His lip twitched. It looked like a smirk. "Enough to stray, it seems. Imagine what the man you _love_ might think if he knew how willingly you gave yourself to a former Death Eater…"

"Stop it!" At some point I had begun to sob. I struggled to keep my voice even, but determination pressed me on. "You are a _horrible_ man, Lucius Malfoy. I don't know how I could have thought differently. I made a serious mistake today, I know that I did, but at least I can admit it and try to better myself from it. I may have been unfaithful to Ron...I will have to live with that...but your unfaithfulness to your wife hardly renders you blameless here. And you certainly don't seem to care about that. You have no regard for anybody else. You are..."

I found myself unable to think of anything, and shook my head instead. When I spoke again my voice had somewhat calmed. "I want nothing- _nothing_ \- more to do with you, Mr. Malfoy. Goodbye."

With that, I gathered my things in a rush and stormed out the door. If he wanted to retort, I didn't see it. Within moments I had made my way to one of the Ministry's many fireplaces and Floo'd my way home. The only thing that lingered in my thoughts was the image of Lucius Malfoy standing before me as I unleashed my anger upon him, a stunned yet hardened expression on his face.

When I arrived at my flat, I broke down once more. I barely made it across the living room to the couch before I collapsed onto it with a heaving cry. Everything seemed to hurt- the shock of my behavior, the guilt at what I had done to Ron- but nothing, _nothing_ tore at me as much as the knowledge that all I wanted was to do it again.

* * *

Leave a review if you are so inclined! There is sure to be more of this, their story is far from over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** : Finally done with chapter 2! For those following the other side of this story, _A Repulsion of Denial_ , another chapter should be out soon. I'm working on it in tandem with this one, and it made much more sense to finish this chapter first for the continuity of it all.

Anyhow, enjoy! As a usual disclaimer, I own nothing, and as a warning this is still rated M, but likely not in a way you'd prefer. Sorry! I promise I'll make it up to you all.

* * *

I didn't go to work the next day, or the day after that. I informed the Ministry in a succinct note that I unexpectedly needed to take some time off, and that I would return as soon as I could. I expected a rebuttal, some sort of reprimand for my sudden absence, but no one questioned it. For once I was thankful that my name carried its reputation.

If Ron noticed anything amiss with me when I informed him I'd stayed home due to illness, he didn't show it. He carried on in his usual cheery way, chattering on about how the Chudley Cannons were sure to do well this season with their new lineup, or how brilliantly he and the other Aurors had executed their latest raid.

"You really should come down and visit us more, 'Mione," he said at dinner on the second night of my absence. "It's loads more fun than those stuffy old offices over by you. I mean, it's no wonder you got sick. I'd be sick all the time if I were stuck in one of those cooped-up rooms, with _Lucius Malfoy_ of all people."

The mention of his name sent a horrible sort of thrill rushing through me, a mixture of sweeping guilt and infuriating desire. I tried to tamp down the latter of those immediately, to forget the burn of his lips against mine, the perfect fulfillment of him inside me...I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts.

"You alright, Hermione?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Fine," I replied a little too soon, my voice a little too high. "I'm fine. Just a little out of sorts from this bug I've got. I think I'll go to bed now."

"Alright...I'll be in later, there's a match on and I want to catch at least some of it."

I nodded, assuming that would be the case. Ron had taken to having a television in our flat immediately, managing to find out that nearly every Muggle sport fascinated him when he watched it. I dragged myself to the bedroom and closed the door just as I heard the start of cheers and shouting from the living room.

Alone in bed, my thoughts unwittingly began to drift. For the countless time in two days I thought of a certain long-haired blonde man. Flashes of his forceful touch, his heated gaze...I squeezed my eyes shut tight as if that might expel the visions from my mind. It didn't work.

Instead I found myself becoming increasingly frustrated, and increasingly aroused. One of my hands slipped under the waistband of my pajamas of its own accord. My fingers trailed downward as my mind conjured the image of Lucius, hard and hot and ready, his eyes never leaving mine as he thrust himself inside me. I was hardly surprised to find myself already wet and wanting.

Two of my fingers curled up inside myself, my body already primed in overwhelming desire. With my eyes still closed it became unnervingly easy to imagine Lucius's hardness within me, moving in perfect rhythm, hitting every delicious spot seemingly without effort. My thumb rubbed over my swollen nub and I tumbled over the edge of pleasure with the sound of his deep, silken voice at the front of my mind.

" _Hermione…"_

I moaned, shuddering slightly in residual pleasure, thinking of the way he said my name…

"Hermione?"

I froze. Suddenly it felt like somebody had tossed me into a pool of icy water. That voice was certainly _not_ the voice I had been picturing. I opened my eyes but found myself apparently unable to move anything else, and I was very aware of my legs splayed across the bed, my hand still trapped beneath the hem of my pajamas.

"Blimey, if you'd told me _this_ is why you wanted to go to bed…"

Ron was grinning in the doorway. He tugged his shirt off and tossed it carelessly across the room before crawling onto the bed.

"I thought it might help me fall asleep," I offered in weak explanation. Ron didn't seem to mind.

"Hey, you don't need to explain it to me."

One of his arms had found its way around my waist, effectively moving my hand from its position inside my pants. He tugged me closer and nuzzled my neck.

"D'you want to…"

I paused at his unfinished question. _Did_ I want to? I'd known where he was headed, of course- I could hardly miss it from his wide grin and obvious approval of my actions- but did I want to go there with him? I thought about it for a moment, breathing deep the familiar scent of him. Grass, and linen...comforting and sweet.

 _Leather and parchment_ …

No.

I forced that thought out of my head and smiled. I hoped it passed for seductive, and it seemed to given Ron's enthusiastic scramble to shed the rest of his clothes. I almost laughed at the endearing predictability of it, his boyish eagerness a comfort.

 _Steady hands pulling at my clothing_ …

I shook my head, hiding it in the motions of removing my pajamas. Ron gave an appreciative grin as he looked me over.

"Bloody hell, you're gorgeous."

His lips met mine in a routined kiss; we'd settled into that quickly, at the beginning of our relationship. I had never had any complaints- kissing Ron was always exceedingly _nice_. It took awhile to realize that it wasn't ever anything more than that. Still, in the grand scheme of things, it was hardly an issue. After all, I'd always liked it. But at that moment I found myself opposed to it for the first time ever. It suddenly seemed utterly repellant.

Not wanting to address that, I simply tilted my head so that his lips caught my neck instead. I reached down toward his willing hardness in order to encourage him. Luckily (at that moment it felt like luck, at least) Ron had never had much patience for foreplay, and I was still slick and ready from earlier. He positioned himself quickly and thrust, burying himself inside of me.

I tried to focus on the moment, on conjuring the typical feelings I had during sex with Ron. His presence was always a comfort, and I enjoyed the familiarity of him inside me even if it did often end in mild disappointment. I closed my eyes.

 _Linen and grass_.

Suddenly it was far easier to push thoughts of another man away. I clung to Ron, inhaling the sweet simplicity of him, wrapping my legs around his waist to push him deeper. The new angle allowed him to better reach within me. It wasn't perfect, but it did serve to stoke the flames within me, a delicious burn rising with each movement of his hips. I moaned aloud and he responded with a grunt.

"'Mione," he warned, "I can't last...too good…"

I took that as a compliment, which made it easier to stave off the disappointment when I felt him spill inside me, leaving my own mounting need to taper, unsatisfied.

He slipped out quickly, falling breathless at my side and throwing a hand over my belly. I tucked myself in against him, too tired to even want to take care of myself. Instead I found comfort in the linen and grass scent of him and closed my eyes, dutifully pushing away any lingering thoughts that drifted through my brain.

"Night, 'Mione," Ron yawned, already starting to doze off.

I managed to smile, watching him. "Goodnight, Ron."

Despite my exhaustion sleep didn't come easily that night, as it hadn't for the two nights prior. Ron's gentle snoring provided a background hum to my restlessness, a soundtrack to my abhorrent behavior. The thoughts had returned with full, torturous force. I saw Lucius Malfoy's face every time I closed my eyes, felt his body in rhythm against mine with every breath I took, wished deeply for him with every unsteady beat of my heart.

After a third night of tossing and turning in weak, dream-ridden bouts of what barely counted as sleep, I was positively miserable. I barely managed my quick goodbye to Ron before he left for work, leaving me alone in the flat with only my thoughts.

 _This is ridiculous_ , I scolded myself in a sharpened voice. _You have a wonderful boyfriend that you love, and you're sitting here pining over Lucius Malfoy? What is the matter with you?_

My irritating internal voice was right, of course. I had a perfect boyfriend in Ron; someone I'd grown and shared my life with, someone who supported me (if sometimes grudgingly), someone who loved me. And of course someone I loved in return...though the twitchy part at the back of my mind wondered if that meant I was truly _in love_ with him. I sighed, not wanting to answer to that bit, as I felt a headache coming on at the thought of it.

I decided to lose myself in a book. After picking out a volume I'd been meaning to get to off of my overstuffed bookshelf I curled up on the living room couch and settled in, hoping it would take my mind off of everything. It seemed to work well enough, as the outside world seemed to melt away just as it always did when I started reading. In fact, the only reason I returned to it was because a loud knock at the door startled me out of my concentration.

I frowned. I'd warded the apartment against intruders, using a tricky charm that would set off alarms on anyone dark, dangerous, or intending to cause harm. I wasn't expecting any mail I might need to sign for. And anyone who might visit either had a key, knew the unlocking spells, or would use the fireplace.

Wand in hand, I set my book aside and stepped over to the front door. A silly but very real part of me hoped at who I might see on the other side of the door. I didn't truly let myself start to think on it, though, until I unlatched the lock and opened the door to find the man I'd been thinking about so obsessively standing there. I froze, stunned, staring at Lucius Malfoy before me.

* * *

Like I said...sorry! This chapter fought me for awhile because as it turns out, it is not easy for me to write a RonxHermione sex scene. I'd never done that before. But thankfully I will be better serving my M-rating soon. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Long chapter is long! But also slow to be published, so hopefully the length makes up for me taking forever to get this out. As usual, I love all the favorites/follows/comments. I'm so glad you are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.

And also as usual, I own nothing but my own words and any mistakes that might have come along with them.

* * *

"You must return to work."

"Excuse me?" I asked, taken aback.

"You must return to work," he repeated. "Immediately."

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't know what possessed you to come to my home and start making demands of me, but I'm not going to return simply because you tell me to."

He smirked. "So we are back to 'Mr. Malfoy,' are we?" He stepped over the threshold, invading my space. "How formal. So unlike the last time we saw one another."

"I told you, that was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. And as for me returning to work, I think it's best if I transfer to another department. I'll put in my request tomorrow, and we won't have to see each other again."

His eyes hardened and he stepped forward, sending me back until he had me trapped between his body and the kitchen counter. "That isn't going to work," he growled. "I refuse to lose a competent colleague, and I am sure you are aware that any other work would be beneath you."

"It wouldn't be _beneath me_ ," I replied, my face growing heated both at the argument and his proximity. "There are several perfectly respectable departments in the Ministry."

"Nonsense." He loomed over me, an undeniable presence that should have been threatening, but all I felt was that familiar rush of desire. "You know that you would not be happy anywhere else. You must return to me, where you belong."

When I felt myself flush red I wondered if I had been incredibly thick. Had he ever actually been talking about work? I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. "I can't."

"You _can_." His voice, low and insistent, made me shiver. He lifted a hand to my cheek, thumb stroking idly over the reddened skin. It took all of the remaining shreds of my self control not to lean into his touch.

"No, I can't," I said again. My own voice came out much weaker than I had intended. "I can't just…" I sighed. "It isn't the right thing to do."

"Always so concerned with doing what's 'right'," he scolded softly, though his tone was surprisingly sincere. "Forget about 'right' for a moment. What is it you _want_?"

I swallowed again, trying rapidly, desperately to convince myself to say what I knew I should. I had to tell him that what I wanted was my life with Ron, my life of normality; that that made me happy. I knew when I said it he would back away, and I would be free of him forever.

"I want…"

For what felt like hours those two words hung in the silence between us. It would be so easy to tell him to go. But I wondered: when did he get so _close_?

"Yes?" His question was no more than a whisper.

I set my wand down on the counter. I had nearly forgotten that I was even holding it. One of my hands pressed to his chest, possibly to push him away, but instead slid up to curl around the back of his neck, pulling gently. He acquiesced, slow enough that I had time to move away like I should, bending so his lips just barely brushed my own.

 _Bastard_ , I thought in the briefest flash. He knew exactly what he was doing, making sure that the final movement was my own. I both loved and hated him for it.

Then I stopped thinking and leaned up the rest of the way.

He responded to the kiss immediately, forcefully, all teeth and tongue and that molten silver heat that burned so visibly within him. My body reacted in remembered pleasure, pressing against him, desire flaring at the feel of his growing hardness against my abdomen. I couldn't help but whimper into the kiss.

The hand not around Lucius's neck slid downward to cup him through his trousers, causing him to groan in the most delightfully frustrated way. For the first time I realized the power I had over this man, and I loved it. I pulled back from him completely and he groaned again.

He glared at me, fire raging in his eyes, face hardened in agonized disbelief. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

A wave of desire rushed through me at the way he practically growled; but I continued to back away, biting on my lower lip, grinning in my triumph. I turned away from him and out of the room, peeling my shirt off and throwing it behind myself so that it would land directly in his line of sight.

The bra came next, landing not far from the shirt. As I walked down the corridor I maintained the same pattern, undressing and tossing articles of clothing aside to leave an odd sort of trail to my bedroom. Entirely nude, I settled back on my bed, propped up on my elbows. I knew I wouldn't have to wait long for him.

Mere moments later he appeared in the doorway. He stood there, transfixed, looking me over like I might be a fine piece of art on display in a museum. Despite the odd sort of bravado I had shown with my little performance, I found myself blushing down my chest at his gaze.

Lucius grinned, predatory, serpentine gaze fixated on me as he crawled onto the bed with graceful ease. I wondered if there was anything this man _couldn't_ do in that deliciously haughty charm of his- and quickly decided that no, no there was not.

"You're thinking too hard about something," he murmured. At some point during my internal tangent he'd bent to brush his lips against my jaw. "I don't care for distractions."

I shivered, grinning. "It's your own fault, since I happened to be thinking about you."

His lips traveled down the sensitive curve of my neck. "Hmm...I suppose that is better. Although I'd prefer to have your attention focused on me in other ways."

My hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, tugging gently at it. "What sort of ways?"

"Don't play coy, you know exactly what sort of ways."

I couldn't help giggling. "I do. But you're going to need to be far less dressed if I'm going to give you any of that sort of attention."

He clicked his tongue in a mock reproachful fashion. "So demanding, my dear."

"Yes. I've waited long enough."

He smirked and undressed himself quickly, discarding his clothes on the floor before returning to me. I reveled in the sensation of his heated skin against my own.

"Much better," I sighed happily.

"Hmm," he hummed in agreement.

He lowered his head to mine, capturing my lips once more. Again I marveled internally at how wonderful it felt to kiss him- how natural, how _right_. I never wanted to stop. His tongue swept past my parted lips to tangle with my own, and I reveled in the burning taste of him, stoking the flames of my need ever higher.

One hand slipped down between my thighs, teasing. I reluctantly broke from the kiss to groan.

"Lucius…"

"Yes?"

"Enough teasing. I need you."

"As you wish."

He took only a moment to adjust himself, positioning at my entrance before thrusting inside me.

 _Finally_. The word seemed to shout at me in my mind. It felt like it had been ages since we had last joined rather than mere days. My body was thrilled at the sudden fulfillment, banishing entirely the ache it had felt without him.

"Yes…" I moaned aloud. Both of my legs wrapped around his waist in a familiar movement, everything within me already so attuned to him.

"Gods," he growled in return. "Too long...it's been too fucking long since I've been inside you…"

The logical side of me wanted to point out that it had only been three days. That part was drowned out by the side internally shouting in agreement. My body felt soothed and inflamed all at once, the ache of missing him replaced by fulfillment and the white-hot burn of pure pleasure. Overwhelmed, I simply moaned louder as an acknowledgment.

"Lucius…" I barely realized his name had escaped my lips. "Yes, Lucius…"

"So perfect," he muttered, his voice so low I wondered if he even knew that he had spoken aloud. "So wet, and tight, and _perfect_ for me…"

The words caused a rollicking wave of pleasure to surge within me, his every motion pushing me toward the inevitable. I couldn't contain my own sudden vocality.

"All for you," I agreed in what I normally would have thought was a degrading and embarrassing fashion. In the moment, with him, it seemed the only right thing to do. "I am perfect for you, and you are perfect for me...I've never felt like this before...Lucius…"

"No, you haven't." The force of his thrusts cut the edge of his usual arrogance. "Only with me. Only ever with me…"

I whimpered my agreement. "Yes…"

Somehow he seemed to already know my body so well, he could see that I was near the edge, as he sped up the motion of his hips while he slipped a hand down between us to expertly rub the spot at the apex of my legs.

"Come for me," he growled, nearly animalistic in his intensity. That was all it took.

"Lucius!" I screamed his name out to the corners of the room, letting him hear the pleasure he had given me.

He followed immediately after, my own name on his lips. "Hermione…"

When we had finally ridden out the waves of aftershocks he slipped out of me with a groan, falling back at my side on the bed. I turned and settled against him, panting but feeling like I could breathe better than I had in days. My head settled on his chest and I inhaled a deep, greedy breath.

 _Leather and parchment and sated desire_.

The scent filled my head and threaten to overwhelm me, but I found myself utterly relaxed at it. I breathed deep again.

"What are you thinking about?"

His voice from above me was a surprise in the quiet of the room, but a welcome one.

"How good you smell," I answered honestly.

He chuckled, a rich sound that reverberated through his chest and seeped into my very skin. "Do I? I wasn't aware."

I heard the smirk in his voice and giggled against his chest, delighting in it. How had I never realized just how beautiful each part of him was? I remembered quickly that the last time this happened, we had both been almost entirely clothed. Wonderful as it was, I much preferred the luxurious feel of skin against skin. He stroked my spine with one lazy hand, the other resting near my hip. I let out a happy sigh and took it in my own with the intention to lace my fingers through his, but he flinched at the contact before freezing entirely. It didn't escape my notice.

"Lucius?"

I wondered suddenly if something was wrong, if everything was about to turn sour as it had three days earlier and I had made a horrendous mistake. My hand still held his.

"Don't-" he began, and suddenly I realized the reason behind his reaction.

Turned slightly, his arm revealed the black mark I had seen so many times, in such horrible circumstances. It had faded only slightly, and would remain permanently on his otherwise unmarred flesh. My hand left his to ghost upward, stopping at his forearm, my fingertips tracing the familiar lines of the interwoven skull and snake. His breath hitched, and when I looked up I saw the depth of incredulity in his eyes.

"It's alright," I said softly. I had no idea where the words came from, or if he would even want to hear them.

"How?" He sounded lost, hollow, guilt-ridden. "How can you possibly…"

"You don't still believe in it, right? You don't still think this way?"

"No."

The immediate response shocked me. I'd expected at least a moment of hesitation.

He sighed heavily and began to speak again. "I spent a great deal of my life harboring the beliefs I did, Miss Granger."

 _We're back to 'Miss Granger', then?_ I thought to myself.

"I believed in my cause as much as you did in yours. Why should I have had any reason to question it? But the war changed everybody, not only you and your companions. I realized, not quickly enough, that I had lost everything to a madman. My home, my freedom, and very nearly my son...and for what? I'll admit, I do still struggle with...acceptance…but I no longer agree with the Dark Lord's particular vision. The clarity has allowed me to release some of my previous prejudices."

"Like me," I responded without thinking. "I doubt this would have happened had you still held your past beliefs...although if I am being perfectly honest, I have half-expected you to find yourself disgusted of me and run the moment we've finished. Part of me is surprised you're still here now."

"I couldn't. With other muggleborns, perhaps…"

I couldn't help a laugh even as I hit him in the chest. "You're sleeping with other muggleborns?"

"No, just the one. But she's quite enough for me."

The warm glow I felt at that tempered by another niggling question. "Lucius?"

"Hmm?"

"What about your wife?"

"I assure you, she isn't a muggleborn."

"You know that isn't what I meant." I rolled my eyes before looking up at him seriously. "How can we keep doing this? You have a wife, I have Ron…"

"I know," he replied, a bit too hasty. "I'm well aware of that."

"I can't hurt him."

"I believe that particular ship has already sailed, my dear. Whether or not he knows of it, the damage has been done."

"How can you be so cavalier about this?" Annoyed, I started to get up. He stopped me by tightening his hold on my waist, and though I wanted to be upset at the subtle possessiveness of it, I couldn't help the irrational glow of delight that swelled within me.

"It's merely honesty. Now that we've begun this, there's hardly a chance that someone won't be hurt at some point."

I sighed. I knew he was right, but I had no more desire to think about it. Luckily he seemed to have the same thoughts, as he fell silent and simply returned to holding me, one hand lifting to idly stroke my hair while the other maintained a gentle grasp on my waist.

Time passed, minutes stretching into hours while we stayed lazily reclined on the bed, settled in our relaxed embrace. Eventually I lifted my head to check the time and my stomach sank.

"It's getting late," I said, unable to keep the misery from my voice.

"Yes," he agreed. It lifted my spirits slightly to hear that he sounded just as dejected as I did.

We rose simultaneously, I threw on a robe and and together we located Lucius's discarded clothing so that he could redress. He cast a quick cleaning charm over himself before doing so, in moments returning to the poised and self-possessed man he displayed to the world. I felt a sudden rush of desire for him return; it took all of my control not to just tear his clothes off and pull him down to the bed once more.

I saw him out, passing the trail of clothing I'd left behind on the way to the front door. It made me blush a slight pink, and from the corner of my eye I saw the hint of a smirk on his lips.

"You will return, then?" he asked in the entryway. "To the Ministry, of course."

"Of course," I echoed. I nodded after a moment. "I will return."

Something that looked like relief flashed across his face. "Good. Then I shall see you there."

A sudden awkwardness threatened to overtake the moment, both of us not quite knowing how to part, until he suddenly bent to capture my lips. I whimpered in surprise and kissed back, immediately winding my arms around his neck. When he finally pulled away he left without another word; I heard the distinct _pop_ of disapparition a moment later.

My return trip to the bedroom was accompanied by the sinking feeling of loss. A certain wretchedness joined in somewhere between my picking up all of the clothing on the floor and surveying the room when I stepped back inside it.

A pang of guilt wrenched through me as I eyed the rumpled bedding, sheets twisted and pillows strewn about, one of them halfway across the room on the floor. I wished briefly, desperately that the guilt had come from remorse at what I'd done- at what I'd done in the bed I shared with the man I supposedly loved- but I knew with an even worse realization that I didn't regret it at all.

The guilt swelled and festered when I finally admitted to myself that I knew I wanted it to happen again- that without a doubt, I needed this (whatever 'this' meant) to continue.

* * *

Feel free to leave a review if you should like! I promise to try and get the next chapter out soon.


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